


The Empress

by theorchardofbones



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Tides of Fate: A FFXV Tarot Project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Written for Tides of Fate: A FFXV Tarot Project. I was lucky enough to write the blurb for the Empress card, in collaboration with @titusdravtos whosestunningartwork can be foundhere!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Tides of Fate: A FFXV Tarot Project





	The Empress

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tides of Fate: A FFXV Tarot Project. I was lucky enough to write the blurb for the Empress card, in collaboration with @titusdravtos whose _stunning_ artwork can be found [here](https://twitter.com/titusdravtos/status/1224398859117498368?s=19)!

The wheat ripples, a sea of gold stirred by the evening breeze; on weary feet, the Oracle traipses between the stalks.

The sun has left its kiss upon her shoulders, a spray of freckles that mar their otherwise alabaster planes; her flaxen hair shimmers gold in the light.

Her heart is full from a day’s toils, yet heavy in turns. The plight of the people — their suffering, their humble gratitude — always touches her in ways that she cannot quite put into words. Those she can help offer her the sum of their material possessions; she politely refuses. Those she cannot still thank her for her warmth and compassion.

It is her calling, to heal the ailing; her one true purpose. She fears it will be the death of her.

The sound of the water lapping against the shore reaches her and it’s a sweet melody, a placid burbling beneath the whispering of the breeze. This is her haven; her oasis; her retreat from the woes of the world. No ill can find her here: no worries, no pain.

By the water’s edge she sits and slips off her sandals. The water is cool and gentle where she dips in her toes. When she closes her eyes, the world falls away, leaving only the soft trickling of the stream, and the swaying of the wheat.

She’ll return ere long, to use healing hands to soothe the suffering of those in need, and they’ll praise her — the Oracle, conduit for the gods, ever faithful to her people. They’ll spread word, from village to village, from house to house, and they’ll come out in droves with offerings of food and wine, and they’ll welcome her to their hearth as if she were one of their own.

As the sun sets, it turns the sky to molten rose-gold; the water glints lazily, casting crystals of light into the evening haze. Aera basks in the last of the warmth, and for a scant moment in time the world’s troubles dare not touch her.


End file.
